Russian Roulette
by Rikki Writinglover
Summary: Everyone knows Joker is insane, and definitely the more dangerous one in their relationship, but people forget that Harley is crazy too, and she has her moments where she can scare even the Joker. Just maybe not in the way he understands.


Joker scribbles absentmindedly on his plans for their next bank heist, trying to think of something that would make it more...entertaining.

Harley and the henchmen are piled in the living room a few feet away, laughing at something he didn't catch. Harley is chatting away, sewing at something, probably a pair of his pants, her voice as cheerful and annoying as always.

"Woah Harley, isn't this you? And that's your pops? No wonder you have Daddy issues." One of the henchmen laughs, Eric, Joker thinks he's called. Harley says nothing, and suddenly everything is quiet, the henchmen's laughter dying out nervously. Joker ceases his movements, as his interest in peaked. He doesn't usually interfere between Harley and the henchmen, their attitude towards her is meaningless to him as long they aren't stupid enough to touch her. But this could lead somewhere entertaining.

"Harls?" Eric says nervously, and that's enough to draw Joker's eye to the scene.

Harley is frozen, her eyes gone glassy, gripping the needle in her hand so tightly it's stabbing her finger. She's still in costume, and now drops of blood from her finger are dripping onto the red and black leather of her suit. Joker quirks an eyebrow, mildly curious as to what spooked her, when he catches sight of the newspaper now dropped at Eric's feet.

"New evidence discovered, Dr. Edward Quienzel- child abuser? Could this be part of what drove Harley Quinn into insanity, and a life of crime as known mass murderer The Joker's partner?"

Joker's eyes narrow, and he sighs, a bit disappointed and a lot irritated. He's known about Harley's past since the beginning, and he knows where this is going. He's seen it before.

Sure enough, within a heartbeat of him thinking it, Harley jumps from her seat and lunches at Eric, lodging her needle in his eye. Eric screams, and Joker takes a moment to enjoy it, watching the great bafoon fall to the ground, hand over his eyes as blood begins to run down his face. Joker smiles, amused, before allowing his attention to focus back on Harley, whose expression is completely feral.

Before he has a chance to say something, Harley pulls her revolver, shooting Eric in the head and ending his delectable but admittedly irritating whines, and without hesitating, shooting the two closest henchmen to her in the throat.

Joker sighs frustrated and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, a bit anxious.

This happens to Harley, occasionally. While she is definitely all around more sane than he is, her adoration for him keeping her on a tight leash, sometimes she has...episodes... of such intense insanity even he cannot control or predict her. Last time this happened she burned their entire hideout down, and he had almost killed her then. If it hadn't attracted Batman, who successfully distracted him then he would have. As it was, Joker just left her to take a nice vacation to Arkham.

"Get the hell out. Now." He hisses to the rest of his idiot henchmen, who have yet to move, and they slip out with a lasting glance to the bodies now littering the floor. Morons, if he didn't hate hiring he would have let Harley slaughter them. It was good fun to see his girl splatter some brains.

Harley stills suddenly, her eyes locking onto his own, a manic, wild gleam in her eye. She lowers the revolver a little and starts to laugh, and not her usual annoying giggle, but a bloodcurdling laughter that racks her entire body.

"Ah Mista J. Daddy issues. HeHe. They say I have DADDY issues, I do huh? Isn't that funny, Harleen is dead, but Harley keeps her problems? Father always said bananas didn't fall far from the coconut tree... I wonder if Mommy was nutso too? Whata think Mista J? I got Daddy issues?"

She's starting to ramble, her voice getting more high pitched every sentence. She's actually getting to where he can't even follow her line of thinking, which is quite a feat.

"Is it the pain that makes the girl bad Puddin? Whata think? Think a shot will make is better? Like the doctors say! Shocks and needles every day make the crazy go away!" She giggles, stepping back to the couch and grabbing another needle, and without loosing her grip on the gun, jamming it into her arm.

Instead of crying out in pain like he expects, or at least snapping herself out of it, she just clicks her tongue disappointedly.

"Awww the needles don't work! We better not tell Bats though, he might not like that. " she mutters, and Joker stands, stepping towards her slowly.

"Harley cut that out. Look at the mess you've made." He scolds, hoping his anger will jolt her to normal, but instead her eyes flicker to his, some sort of hatred in her eyes he hasn't seen before.

She lifts the gun, pointing it at his head, and his mouth falls open in shock.

How DARE she?! He created her and she points a gun at him?! Threatens him?! Oh he'll have to kill her now, the ungrateful little bitch.

"Harley. What do you think you're doing?" He hisses, and she laughs again, throwing back her head, bloodstained blonde pigtails whipping around her face.

"Well you know Puddin, I bet THIS would make the pain go away. Kill you, kill him, no more Daddy! No more Daddy, it all goes away!" She says, hysteria creeping into her voice. Joker slowly raises his hands, trying to think a way out of this. Harley has never threatened him in this state before, and normally when she's angry at him he can talk her down easily. But like this he isn't sure he can coo and sweet talk his way around her.

"Harley pumpkin, put the gun down. You don't want to shoot me baby, you love me. You know I only hurt you because it's what's best for you." He purrs, but the adoration doesn't creep back into Harley's expression. Something else is building in her blue eyes.

She stares at him a moment and then smiles. "You're right Puddin. Shooting you wouldn't make the pain go away, it'd get worse."

Joker sighs softly in relief, and then smiles wickedly. Now he just needs her to drop the gun, so he can beat her with it.

"But I know what W-illlll!" She singsongs, suddenly lurching back from him and shooting the dead body of the henchmen twice, his corpse twitching on impact. Then she spins the cylinder of the gun and smiles softly. "Let's play a GAME, Mista J." She giggles and he steps towards her angrily, ready to slap the gun out of her hand, when she moves the barrel to her temple.

Joker stops, freezes in shock, and SOMETHING curls in his stomach at the sight of Harley pointing a gun at her head. She's NEVER done something like that before, and he recognizes the more familiar feeling of anger and possessiveness that sweeps through him. No one but The Joker gets to hurt Harley, and definitely not KILL her. That was his right, and his alone.

But there's still something else, something he hasn't felt before swirling through him and all the clown knows is he needs her to . .

"Harley... Put the gun down." He hisses and the corner of her mouth turns up in a twisted smirk. "Tsk tsk tsk Mista J, don't you get the joke?!" She laughs wildly, and pulls the trigger.

Everything goes silent for a moment, which feels more like an eternity, and an overwhelming wave of fear crashes down on him before he realizes that Harley is still laughing, still standing, and that she's spun the chamber again.

Without thinking about it another second he tackles her, knocking the gun out of her hand. Harley bucks hysterically underneath him, trying to throw him off, but he pins her fairy easily.

Joker stares at her a moment as she thrashes, her eyes wide and panicked when suddenly she relaxes, completely pliant and defeated. Her blue eyes stare up directly into his, tears he would usually enjoy causing bubbling up in her eyes.

"Please just kill me Mista J. I know you want to, just do it." She begs, more clarity in her expression than Joker is comfortable with and he flusters a little. This all has taken a turn he isn't amused by. He was supposed to beat her to death while she begged for mercy, not try and shoot herself. Harley is always ruining his fun!

And of course irritation is all it is. That fear he felt earlier was simply because he can't stand the idea of anyone else getting to spill the twit's blood, obviously. After all it's not like she isn't replaceable. She means nothing to him.

But, if he's right, which he always is, why is he still terrified. Maybe Harley needs to go to Ivy's for a few days. Then he can get his head back to normal.

He stares down at her another moment, deliberating, the without a word standing up, hauling her with him. She stumbles a little in surprise, falling into his chest, and he

squeezes her tight a moment, not really understanding why before he pushes her away.

"Don't tell me what I want Harley. Stop all this nonsense and go to bed, you can clean up your mess later. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Harley just nods, still not quite back to herself and walks off, leaving Joker with only the corpses as company, and while usually he doesn't mind that, it is pretty messy.

He scans the train-wreck of a room and then and picks up the discarded gun, the safety still off and the chamber already spun for the next round of Harley's Russian Roulette.

The clown looks around the room at the now bloodstained floors and catches sight of the damned newspaper, the picture of an older brunette man and a little pigtailed blonde girl off to the side. The picture is now splattered in Eric's brains, and Joker starts laughing. He would have assumed the man had no brains if they weren't currently under his fingernails. Then, cutting off his own anger in a moment of rage, he aims the gun and pulls the trigger, blowing a hole right in Edward Quienzel's face.

One part of his mind, the part he is use to listening to tells him the really needs to see the real thing, and soon. A hole in the head would like real nice on old Edward, he's a winter.

The other half is fixating on the fact that the gun shot this time, which means he somehow saved Harley's life. He really doesn't see any significance in that. Not at all, this is why is largely ignores this part of his brain.

"BOB!" He yells, and one of the minions-he really has no idea if that's the buffoon's name or not, he just needed a minion- comes running in.

"Y-yes boss?" The fool stutters, but Joker just shakes his head, tossing Harley's gun at the man. "Take this for now. Keep an eye on Harley, if she tries to leave or go off alone somewhere i want informed. " he snaps, trying to sound bored, but the stupid henchman starts talking.

"W-why?"

Joker raises an eyebrow at the man, his eyes glittering with malice.

"I don't have to explain myself, now get out for now or I'll rip out your fingernails and shove them in your eye." Joker hisses cheerily, turning on his heel and heading into his bedroom to find Harley, relieved to see her curled up asleep on her side.

The clown sheds his clothes quickly and climbs under the covers, drifting off as Harley snores softly beside him, her familiar warmth a expected perk now when he comes home, no more cold beds. The girl is like a furnace.

And if he wakes up holding her tightly, it isn't protective nor worried. It's definitely not because of her blood-chilling still ringing in his ears, It is just because he get's cold at night, and besides a working electric blanket Harley is the next best thing.

Nothing more.


End file.
